


(untitled PWP inspired by fanart)

by Anonymous



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Community: cabinpres_fic, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-31
Updated: 2012-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:47:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted on The Meme:<br/>http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/783.html?thread=3142159#cmt3142159</p><p>Inspired by fanart, which I would link to, but author requested not to reblog. I'm not sure if linking here as inspiration would count as reblogging, so I figure better safe than sorry.</p>
    </blockquote>





	(untitled PWP inspired by fanart)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on The Meme:  
> http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/783.html?thread=3142159#cmt3142159
> 
> Inspired by fanart, which I would link to, but author requested not to reblog. I'm not sure if linking here as inspiration would count as reblogging, so I figure better safe than sorry.

They both slip out of their shoes as soon as the door is locked behind them. Douglas pushes Martin against a wall, taking shameless advantage of his height and heavier build. Martin lets himself be pinned against the wall, hands clutching fistfuls of Douglas' hair and Douglas' shirt.

Douglas sneaks his hands along Martin's sides; his fingers, still cold from outside, pinch Martin's nipples, feeling the rush of heat under the already hot skin. He thumbs them roughly, grazing the skin with his nails.

Martin's whimpers go straight to Douglas' cock, and he grinds against Martin's crotch, finding a similar hardness.

Martin seemed uncoordinated, yet he's managed to rid Douglas of his shirt before Douglas has had a chance to undress Martin, and before Douglas can remedy that, Martin is on his knees, making quick work of Douglas' trousers.

Martin takes his cock in his mouth - no teasing kisses tonight, no playful licks before he's sucking hungrily on the head. One hand is palming Douglas' balls, while the other is lost somewhere between Martin's arse cheeks, working himself open.

Douglas groans loudly, thrusting into Martin's eager mouth.

Martin lets him, opens his mouth to the invasion, before taking control with the hand tugging at Douglas' sac. Douglas grunts and stops, and Martin releases his cock, not before dragging his lips over the full length of the shaft.

They look at each other for a moment, eyes glazed over with lust, both of them panting heavily, then Martin licks his lips and gestures wordlessly.

He bows his head and leans down, one arm supporting his forehead. His arse is shoved up in the air, under Douglas' nose. Martin's trousers are still bunched up around his calves, telling of the graceless haste with which they were pulled down.

Douglas takes the time to step out of his own trousers. He enjoys nakedness, and he enjoys making Martin wait. Martin wriggles his arse impatiently, and Douglas can't resist slapping it. The answering whimper is more incentive to repeat the action. Martin thrusts his backside even higher up, and Douglas grips his reddened buttocks, spreading them apart.

It's hard to smirk with his tongue licking the rim of Martin's hole, but Douglas wants to smirk at the incoherent screams that Martin makes. Martin has done a good job of loosening himself for Douglas. Douglas' tongue finds easy passage. Douglas delights in shoving his tongue as deep as it can go, with his lips flush against Martin's arse, in an obscene simile of a kiss.

This is just the foreplay, though. When Martin is shouting and panting, wriggling in a futile attempt to get more of Douglas' tongue inside - it's just anatomically impossible - Douglas smacks him on the arse again, and rises to stand.

It's intoxicating, the way Martin's spread open in front of him, while Douglas lathers his cock with lube. He slaps the firm flesh on Martin's buttocks again, for good measure, and Martin whimpers and shoves back, an invitation Douglas isn't planning on refusing much longer.

Martin's legs tremble with the effort to keep the position, but Douglas figures it's fair, since his own body is straining with the effort of slamming into Martin.

Douglas' hair hangs in front of his eyes, damp with sweat. The hand on Martin's back is there to anchor Douglas as much as Martin. Sweat trickles in Douglas' eyes, but the sting is ignored in the storm of sensory overload that announces the approach of his climax.

Though sweat and hair blur his field of vision, he can see Martin's fingers clutching at the carpet, the hair sticking out from under that damnable hat; his shirt has pooled down on his shoulder blades. It's so different from the crisp and controlled Martin that he's known for so long; this wanton Martin, giving himself over to Douglas, is still so new, but undeniably real, solid and quivering under Douglas.

"Ah! Martin, Martin!" Douglas groans, coming in strong, steady pulses of pleasure.

Douglas wants nothing more than to let gravity take its toll, and slide artlessly to the floor - no, he's wrong. There is something he wants more. He reaches between Martin's legs, while his cock is still pumping inside Martin, and takes hold of Martin's cock. His other hand, still supporting him on Martin's back, finds purchase lower, and he pinches Martin's nipple, hard.

Martin comes screaming his name.

Only after this is accomplished does Douglas let himself flop on the floor, tangling with Martin's similarly lax limbs.


End file.
